


Punishment

by dysonrules



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysonrules/pseuds/dysonrules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry loses an impromptu wager with unforeseen consequences that open doors neither he nor Draco Malfoy had known existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely the most pornographic thing I've ever written. It turned into a somewhat delicate exploration into the world of BDSM with the boys trying gamely to figure it out on their own, all while trying to maintain their facade of enmity. It's not finished, but every chapter is fairly conclusive.
> 
> I actually didn't realise I hadn't posted it here. Whoops! :D

Harry was in shock.  That was the only way he could explain it, really, as he walked wordlessly from the Quidditch pitch through the double doors of Hogwarts Castle, though the entry hall, and up several flights of stairs.  Absolute shock.

He had missed the Snitch.

The feathers of the winged ball had brushed the back of his hand and his fingertips had grazed the golden orb, but another hand had snatched it from his grasp at the last instant.  That hand had stolen his victory and with it claimed a prize nearly beyond comprehension.

Harry followed the footsteps of the boy in front of him, barely registering the shuffling steps of the entourage who followed.  Everyone seemed to be in the same state of silent amazement, even the victorious, and not a single word had been uttered since the upset.

Up and up they went, until they reached the fifth floor.  They traversed several long hallways from there, and their surroundings, while still spotlessly clean from house-elf activity, nevertheless smelled musty from disuse.

The unspoken leader of their caravan halted at a huge door and spoke a spell to unlock it.  The portal swung open silently and a curt gesture sent Harry inside, feeling like he was on his way to the gallows, and partially wishing it were so.  Death might be easier than dealing with the consequences of his stupidity.

When the door shut behind them all, Harry schooled his features into an impassive mask as a hated voice said, "Here we are.  I suppose we should all get comfortable.  Potter, you wait right there."

Harry glared at the boy, but his expression went unnoticed as Draco Malfoy used his wand to move an ancient ottoman into the centre of the room.  Even that was clean, but it looked rather tattered, worn in places.  Harry noted absently that it was Gryffindor red, which disturbed him more than it should have when Malfoy seated his pert buttocks upon it and nodded.

"Yes, this shall do nicely, I think.  Audience, if you will prepare yourselves for the show?"

Hermione tried.  She should have known better this late in the game, but still she tried.  Harry would have been grateful if it had been anyone but Malfoy she battled.  Harry knew perfectly well that words were useless.

"Surely, you have taken this far enough, Malfoy," she said.

"Oh, no, Granger," Pansy Parkinson interjected with a large dose of malice evident in her voice.  "Potter agreed to this and he _lost_.  No welshing!"

"She's right, Hermione," Harry said, regaining his ability to speak.  "Let's just get this over with."

Hermione's lips thinned, but she simply nodded and took a seat in a wing-backed chair.  Ron sat next to her, looking green and almost lost.  Parkinson dragged a stool across the room and then Transfigured it into a divan of Slytherin green, giving Hermione an ugly look of satisfaction at her success.

She sat down and Blaise Zabini joined her, looking bored.  Then again, Zabini always looked bored.

Malfoy clapped his hands twice.  "Excellent.  Very well, Potter, come here and assume the position."

Harry's jaw clenched at the smug tone of Malfoy's voice.  How the hell had he got himself into this stupid mess?  Oh yes, _pride_.  It had been stupid, ridiculous pride.

"You'll never beat me to the Snitch, Malfoy," Harry had taunted last Saturday after claiming victory from Slytherin once again on the Quidditch pitch.

Malfoy's glare had been ugly, but an amused comment from Zabini had softened it.  "Perhaps the stakes are just not high enough for Draco."

A loud argument had ensued, mainly between Zabini and Ron, strangely enough, as both had tried to outdo each other in coming up with proper consequences.  Tempers had flared, names had been called, and a wager had been made.  A one on one game, Seeker versus Seeker for the Snitch.

Harry should have won.  He still could not quite accept the fact that he had lost, but the smirk on Malfoy's face helped it to sink in, as did the pale finger that beckoned him forwards.

Harry forced himself to move, taking several steps until he was stood next to Malfoy's perch.

"Drop them." Malfoy's grey eyes were alight with challenge.

Harry steeled himself and then reached up to unclasp his robes.  He shrugged out of them and then reached for his belt.

"Shirt, too," Malfoy ordered and Harry's jaw worked for a moment.  He said nothing, however, simply pulled his t-shirt over his head and set it aside.  The room was slightly cold and he felt his nipples harden as gooseflesh broke out over his skin.  He glanced towards the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the four onlookers.  No curtains shielded the room from anyone flying past on a random broom, something Malfoy had to have known when he'd chosen the location for Harry's humiliation.

He unbuckled his belt quickly, not willing to hear another word from Malfoy, and then unfastened his trousers.  He let them slide to his feet and kept his eyes fixed on Malfoy's knees, covered in tailored black trousers, before him.

Parkinson whooped.  "Nice arse, Potter!" she catcalled.

"Shut it, you!" Hermione cried.

"Oh, shove off, he's still got his pants on," Parkinson retorted.

"Not for long," Malfoy said.  "Those, too, Potter.  You agreed."

Harry sighed and wondered for the thousandth time _why_ he had agreed to the stupidest wager known to mankind.  Oh, right, because he had never imagined he would lose.

He reached up to the waistband of his briefs and pushed his thumbs inside, preparing to shove them down.  As soon as he did so, Hermione shouted an incantation and Harry felt a brush of magic.

"No fair!" Parkinson shrieked, leaping to her feet. 

Harry blinked at her in surprise as his underwear joined the trousers around his ankles.  He felt utterly exposed.

"A Glamour?  Granger, that's hardly sporting."  Malfoy's voice was dry.

"I don't care! The wager was that the loser would suffer through a bare-arsed spanking with the four of us looking on.  There was no stipulation that prevented the use of a Charm for modesty."

Zabini laughed, drowning Parkinson's protest.  "She's right, Pansy.  Give it a rest.  You seem to be the only one wanting to get a look at Potter's prick, so perhaps you should tell us why, yes?"

Parkinson's face flamed and she sat down immediately.  "I do not!  I...  It just..."

"I don't care," Malfoy said.  "Let the Gryffindors have their minor concession.  Potter, continue."

Harry suppressed a sigh and knelt, wincing at the cold feel of the stone floor beneath his knees.  He should have used his trousers as a bit of a cushion, but it was too late, now.  He just wanted this over with and bruised knees would be nothing next to his scarred ego.

He obediently leaned over without being told and frowned when his abdomen settled over Malfoy's thighs.  The stool was just high enough that Harry was forced to rest upon Malfoy.

"Scoot forwards just a tad, Potter," Malfoy murmured and Harry wanted to throttle him for the amusement in his voice.  He supposed, if the situation had been reversed, that he would have been just as willing to gloat, but that fact made it no easier to bear.  He shifted forward slightly, taking care not to get close enough that his flaccid cock touched Malfoy's trousers.  He was extremely glad that Hermione's spell shielded his privates from their curious gazes.  It was something, at least.

Harry’s palms pressed into the stone floor on the other side of Malfoy's legs.  He barely suppressed a shiver and was vaguely glad that Malfoy's thighs were warm, small comfort though it was.

"That's better.  I believe the agreed upon total was ten, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"I can't hear you, Potter.  How many spankings would you like?"

Harry clenched his teeth and snarled, "Ten."  He would have used a lesser number, but knew any foolish argument would only prolong his humiliation.

"Excellent.  One."  At the number, Malfoy's palm cracked down upon Harry's bare arse.  He had been expecting it, but the sting was still a shock and the sound seemed incredibly loud in the silent room.  Heat bloomed against Harry's left arse cheek and he knew he would be lucky to sit down by the time Malfoy finished.

"Two!" Malfoy said and repeated the motion on the other cheek.

"Three!" and "Four!" followed in quick succession and Harry fought to breathe normally.  It was remarkably painful and he realized he had never been spanked in his life.  He had been pinched and swatted and cuffed about the head and shoulders as a consequence of living with the Dursleys, but never spanked.

Despite the increasing sting, he nearly breathed a sigh of relief.  Almost halfway done.

"Five!" however, caught him a bit lower and he jerked forward in surprise, feeling a jolt of something other than pain.

"Six!" hit the same spot, even harder, and Harry bit his lip against a gasp.  It felt almost... _good_.  To his horror, his cock twitched and began to swell.  _Dear Merlin, not now!  Please not now_.

He clung to the knowledge that there were only four left and willed Malfoy to hurry before his humiliation reached epic levels.  Malfoy, however, firmly held onto his title as the Bane of Harry's Existence.

"Bloody hell," he said.  "My hand is aching.  I should have specified a riding crop or paddle."

The thought of a leather crop smacking across his bare buttocks was not conducive to reducing his growing erection, Harry discovered, and tried to divert his thoughts to something else, such as harvesting bubotuber pus.

He concentrated so hard on distracting his thoughts that he was not quite prepared for "Seven!" and it angled downward slightly.  Malfoy's fingertips grazed Harry's testicles and the resulting jolt sent the tip of Harry's full-blown erection straight into Malfoy's thigh.

Malfoy gasped and Harry dropped his head, face flaming.  He wondered if he could reach his wand--trapped in the folds of his robe--and hex himself into nonexistence.  He waited for the inevitable laughter and taunting.

Instead there was a tense silence and then Harry felt another crack, even sharper and lower than the last one, driving him forward even as Malfoy's leg shifted minutely.  Harry drew in a sharp breath as his cock hit Malfoy's thigh once more, nearly tearing a moan of pleasure from him.  He bit his lip hard to suppress it.  _Merlin_ , his arse was a mass of fire, but he had never been so hard in his life.

Even worse, he had a bizarre urge to spread his legs and let Malfoy spank him harder... and touch him...

"Nine," Malfoy whispered before he struck.  Harry braced himself, but inhaled in surprise when two things happened simultaneously.  First was the delicious friction of his cock slamming into Malfoy's leg, but after the crack of pain on his arse, Harry felt Malfoy's fingertips scrape over his testicles and then slide quickly up his arse crack.  He shuddered and reflexively pushed into Malfoy's thigh once more, desperate for more contact on his aching, throbbing erection.

 _Dear Merlin_ , Malfoy had _touched_ him and he now was _humping Malfoy's leg_.  Harry would never hear the end of it.  He was doomed.  He would have to leave Hogwarts forever.

Harry nearly sobbed as the final blow landed, followed by another touch to his swollen testicles and an upward brush that actually grazed his arsehole.  Harry almost came at the contact.  His arse felt like he had sat on a hive of bees and even the cool air felt painful.  Despite that, Harry shivered with the need for release.  His breath came in harsh half-sobs.

He threw himself away from Malfoy and tore at his pants and trousers together, dragging them up over his agonizing erection and burning arse.  He winced at the action, but did not pause.  He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, unable to look at Malfoy.  He doubted he would ever be able to look at him again.

Harry needed to escape.  Thankfully, Ron and Hermione were already at the door.  Parkinson was laughing and chattering away.  Harry yanked on his shirt and tried to walk at a casual pace.  The friction of material against his flaming cheeks and throbbing prick was maddening.

"Potter."  Malfoy's voice sounded like a clanging death knell.  Harry stopped, dreading the next sound.  "A word, if you please."

He sounded almost polite and Harry shut his eyes before nodding.

"Alone," Malfoy added, sending a spike of anxiety reeling through Harry’s veins.

Parkinson pouted, Ron protested, and Hermione tried to mediate, but the four of them finally pushed into the hallway too soon for Harry's comfort.

Malfoy's footsteps advanced, since Harry had not budged from his spot near the door.  The hardness of his cock had not diminished in the slightest and Malfoy's approach made it twitch uncomfortably.

Malfoy directly behind Harry and his voice was low, close enough to Harry's ear that his hot breath steamed the side of his neck.

"Tomorrow.  Same game, higher stakes.  Twenty spankings, no clothing, _no audience_.  Yes?"

Harry thought his heart might leap completely out of his chest.  "No one finds out about this?"

"Not if you accept the challenge."

"I accept."

"See you tomorrow, Potter," Malfoy purred.  Harry fled.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~The one in which the author indulges in her glove kink~

Draco paced the room, trying to repress his agitation and failing.  He glanced at the long windows and tried to guess the time, not trusting himself to cast such a simple spell as a Tempus Charm.  It was fully dark outside and the room was only dimly lit by a scattering of candles.  Draco was early, he knew, but Potter should be arriving soon, unless he had decided not to go through with it. 

Draco could hardly believe his good fortune.  Two days ago he had outmanoeuvred Potter in a one-on-one game and caught the Snitch from right between Potter’s fingers.  The resulting loss had ended with Draco giving Potter a bare-arsed paddling that had opened a universe of possibilities when the spanking had produced unexpected consequences.  Potter’s erection digging into Draco’s thigh had been eye-opening, to say the least. 

Draco smirked at the tantalising knowledge that the Gryffindor hero had been extremely turned on by a bit of judicious spanking... and the tiniest bit of fondling. 

Truth be told, Draco had been rock-hard by the time he had finished reddening Potter’s arse.  The mortified hero had nearly escaped before Draco had recovered enough aplomb to stop him.  On a whim, he had suggested a rematch with higher stakes.

 A rematch that Potter had, once again, lost.  Draco had to wonder if he had purposefully thrown the game in order to suffer the consequences.

The door opened behind him, scattering Draco’s thoughts.  He turned casually, reining in a burst of excitement.  Potter looked subdued and, not-surprisingly, nervous.  A heady feeling of power thrummed through Draco’s veins and his nerves steadied.

The red ottoman still sat in the middle of the room, the host of Potter’s previous humiliation.  Potter’s gaze snapped to it, then to Draco, and then to the floor.  A blush tinted his cheeks, visible even in the partial-darkness.

“Whenever you are ready, Potter,” Draco said in a dry tone, adding just a hint of challenge that always seemed to spur the Gryffindor into motion.  It worked just as well this time.

Potter tossed his shimmering cloak onto a nearby chair and dragged his plain white t-shirt over his head.  He toed off his shoes and then bent down to remove his socks.  Draco watched in fascination and wondered when Potter had become so fit.  Perhaps it was simply the knowledge of what was to come that caused Draco to appraise him with new eyes.

The Muggle jeans were next.  Potter shimmied out of them and stood wearing nothing but pale blue underpants.  He looked extremely vulnerable, but altogether delicious.

Draco walked to the ottoman and sat down, as before.  He crooked his index finger at Potter, as before, and smirked slightly when he moved forward woodenly.  No erection yet, Draco noted absently.  He wondered how long that would last.

Potter blinked at him suddenly.

“Gloves,” he said redundantly.  “You’re wearing gloves.”

Draco flashed him a grin.  “I need to protect my hands, Potter.  Ten spankings nearly kept me from holding a quill.  You are the one requiring punishment, not I.”

Potter seemed at a loss for words as he eyed the whisper-thin black leather gloves Draco wore.  The silence stretched between them almost to the snapping point, and then Potter’s Gryffindor core seemed to take over.  He pushed down his pants almost angrily and assumed the position so quickly that Draco got barely a glimpse of his cock.

He smiled as Potter’s weight settled on his legs.  Potter’s back was quite muscular, considering he usually looked like a skinny git in the oversized clothing he preferred to wear.  Draco had already noticed the three tiny moles beneath Potter’s right shoulder blade.  He wondered if Potter even knew they were there.

“Just one more thing,” Draco said casually and took his wand out of his pocket before shrugging off his outer robes.  He Vanished his own trousers with a spell and Potter yelped in surprise.

“What the hell?” Potter demanded and started to rise.  He seemed to remember his unclad state at the last moment and relaxed on Draco’s lap again.  His abdominal muscles rippled against Draco’s bare legs.

“Just getting more comfortable, Potter,” Draco commented and then gave his arse a tentative smack to prevent further questioning.

Potter squeaked.

“I suppose that counts as one,” Draco said.  “Nineteen more to go.”

Draco splayed his gloved left hand over the small of Potter’s back, something he had not done last time.  Potter gasped at the touch, but Draco’s second spanking kept him silent.  The blow was much harder than the first, and delivered to the other arse cheek.  The gloves worked splendidly, Draco noted.

“Three,” he said and took note of the pink marks left behind by the swats.  He had judiciously positioned the candles to give him the best view of Potter’s delectable behind.

“Four.”  This one was slightly lower and drew another ragged gasp from Potter.  Draco could feel him tense and relax through the hand on his back and the pressure on his legs.  Potter’s bare skin alone was causing Draco’s prick to wake up and take notice.

“Five,” Draco said and struck lower still.  He was rewarded with the lightest touch of something against his thigh—Potter was getting hard.

“Six, Seven, Eight, Nine,” Draco said in quick succession, smacking mercilessly without pause.  Potter squirmed against him and let out a choked whimper.  His erection pressed firmly into Draco’s bare skin and Draco felt a drop of wetness there.

“Ten!” Draco said and landed one more solid blow.  “Intermission.  Don’t move, Potter.”

Potter panted and his head drooped.  Draco peeled off his gloves and set them between Potter’s shoulder blades, using him as a convenient table.  Potter tensed even more, obviously understanding what the loss of Draco’s gloves meant.

Potter’s breath caught when Draco returned his palm to Potter’s lower back and opened his fingers in a light caress.  Potter’s skin was warm and quivered beneath his hand.  Draco felt such a rush of lust that he was nearly lightheaded for a moment.  Bloody hell, Potter was under his complete control at the moment, naked and needy.

“Eleven,” Draco whispered and delivered his first bare-handed blow.  Potter yelped and jerked forward, driving his cock into Draco’s thigh.  Draco left his hand where it was for a slow count of five, until Potter drew a shuddering breath.  His abdomen was suddenly slick with sweat.

“Twelve!” Draco said and smacked him again.  The next three blows were similar, delivered upon different parts of Potter’s bare arse.  Potter whimpered with every blow and thrashed upon Draco’s lap.  His leaking cock smeared wetness over Draco’s leg.

Draco’s breathing was less than steady and his pants were damp from his own precome.  His erection twitched with every movement Potter made and he suddenly needed more.

“Sixteen,” he said hoarsely and dropped an angled smack to Potter’s left cheek.  His fingers touched Potter’s testicles and he left them there to draw a gentle circle over the lightly furred flesh.  Potter made a choking sound.

“Spread your legs,” Draco ordered.  Potter’s feet were somewhat tangled in his pants, but he kicked them away obediently and spread his knees, giving Draco a clear view of his perfect little arsehole.

Draco’s mouth went completely dry.  “Seventeen,” he said and spanked Potter sharply, even though his hand was beginning to ache.  Potter cried out when Draco cupped his balls and squeezed lightly.  His cock dug rhythmically into Draco’s skin.

“Don’t come, Potter,” he warned.  Potter shivered and backed off somewhat, pushing himself unwittingly back into Draco’s hand.  Potter moaned.

“Nineteen,” Draco whispered and released Potter’s testicles.  Potter’s rasping gasps were loud in the room and Draco felt a hand close around his ankle as Potter braced himself for the next to last blow.  Draco hit him lightly on the top of his arse and then slid his fingers down to touch Potter’s quivering hole.  The hand clenched on Draco’s ankle and Potter’s glasses slipped off to land on the stone with a clatter.  He did not seem to notice.

Draco pushed at Potter’s nether entrance, earning a tortured-sounding moan.  Experimentally, Draco sucked on his fingers, coating them with saliva before returning them to repeat the motion.

“Merlin!” Potter shouted and thrashed on Draco’s lap.

“Hold still, Potter.  One more to go.”  Draco was amazed that his voice sounded relatively normal, even though he was breathing like the Hogwarts Express and his cock strained against his constricting pants.

Draco pushed and prodded lightly at Potter’s ready hole until his index finger disappeared to the first knuckle and Potter began to chant, “ _Please, please, please_ ,” although Draco doubted he even knew what he begged for.  Quivers rocked Potter’s body with every teasing movement.

“Want me to fuck you, Potter?” Draco asked huskily.

Potter half-sobbed and he shook his head savagely, but then he said, almost inaudibly, “Yes.”

Draco pulled his finger free and delivered one last, stinging blow.  “Twenty,” he said with finality and then gripped Potter’s reddened arse with both hands.  He leaned down and licked a stripe across Potter’s arsehole, earning a choked scream.

Draco grinned with wicked satisfaction and pushed the ottoman back.  Potter released his ankle and slipped free of his legs, but Draco said, “Don’t move.”

Potter froze as Draco positioned the cushion until Potter’s abdomen lay upon it, effectively taking Draco’s place.  Draco moved quickly behind Potter and knelt between his still-spread legs.  He used his thumbs to lever Potter’s cheeks open, earning a gasp when he mercilessly gripped the reddened, bruised flesh.

Draco licked a stripe from Potter’s balls up to his anus and then circled Potter’s hole with his tongue several times.  Draco was rather shocked at him own behaviour—he had never done anything like this before, with anyone, but he could not seem to stop himself.

Potter’s shivering, gasping quivers drove him on.  He pushed his tongue through the tight ring of muscle and Potter’s shriek was muffled—his face was buried in the ottoman.  The black head rose and Potter yelled, “Merlin, I’m going to--!”

“Don’t come, Potter,” Draco warned.  He regretfully left off teasing Potter’s hole.  Strangely, he wanted nothing more than to lick and stab and _suck_ at it until Potter was a sobbing mess, but he also knew he might never have another chance to do what he _really_ wanted.

Draco shoved his own pants down enough to expose his cock, which he positioned with one hand while holding Potter in place with the other.

“Oh, Merlin,” Potter said and whimpered.  “Oh, Merlin, Merlin...”

Draco pushed into Potter in one swift motion, burying himself to the hilt.  Potter screamed aloud, clenched around Draco tightly, and came.   That was all it took for Draco.  His cock thrummed and he came more explosively than he could ever recall.  The room went white for a moment and then he collapsed on Potter’s shuddering back as ripples of pleasure electrified his nerve endings.

Bloody hell.  He had fucked Harry Potter.  He shoved his hips forward experimentally, driving his cock deeper, and felt Potter quake beneath him, obviously still sensitive.  Draco’s hands moved gently over Potter’s hot arse, earning a moan.

“You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you, Potter?” Draco murmured.  “I’ll bet if I spanked you again, you could get it up in no time.  You would be hard and ready for me again, wouldn’t you?”

“Let...  Let me up,” Potter said, so quietly that Draco barely heard him.  He pretended he hadn’t.

“I wonder what other things turn you on?” Draco continued.  “I’ll bet you would love to be tied up.  Would you like to be shackled to the bed like a captive prisoner, spanked raw and then fucked until you couldn’t see straight?”

Potter said nothing and Draco had to close his eyes for a moment.  The very image of it was so tantalising he felt his spent cock twitch, still buried deep inside Potter’s heat.  Draco nuzzled the back of Potter’s neck and then bit down lightly.  Potter gasped.

Before he could move, Draco said, “You are a very bad boy, Potter.  I think you get away with far too many things and need to be punished more often.  Since no one else seems willing to put you in your place, I shall have to take matters into my own hands.”  When he said the last word, Draco squeezed.  His fingers were still wrapped around Potter’s arse and Potter moaned, squirming beneath him.

“I’ll be watching you, Potter.  And the next time you are a bad little Gryffindor...”  Draco smacked him lightly on the arse with one hand.  “I’ll be here to punish you.”

Potter drew a shuddering breath and Draco pushed himself away and got to his feet.  He caught only a glimpse of Potter’s abused arse before Potter bolted for his clothing.  Draco pulled up his pants and Summoned his trousers, watching in amusement as Potter haphazardly dragged on his attire.  It gave Draco no small thrill of satisfaction to think that the Chosen One would now live in a permanent state of mortification.

“Potter!” Draco warned when Potter wrenched open the door.  Green eyes met his and the old fire returned instantly.  He held Draco’s gaze without flinching.  “I’ll be watching,” Draco taunted.

Potter sneered at him and went out.

OooOooO

 Harry was a mess. He lay in bed, mind replaying the scene over and over.

  _He thrashed mindlessly as he felt Malfoy’s tongue probe his hole and slip inside.  Dear Merlin, the need to come was almost overwhelming._

_“Don’t come, Potter.” Harry nearly screamed aloud at the hateful words, but Malfoy’s tongue disappeared, only to be replaced by something that could only be the head of his cock.  Harry knew he should stop this insanity.  He should get up and get the hell out._

_"Oh, Merlin,” Harry said and whimpered, accepting the awful truth that he did not want to leave.  “Oh, Merlin, Merlin...”_

_Malfoy’s hand pressed against the small of his back, as if sensing his sudden urge to flee.  And then it was too late to escape, because Malfoy rammed forward and buried himself to the root._

_Harry screamed at the fresh sensation of agonizing pain—and came.  He was certain he blacked out for a moment, because every bit of his being seemed intent on exiting through his tortured cock, leaving trails of blissful flame in its wake._

_He vaguely noticed Malfoy coming as well, and after a long moment Malfoy sagged over his back, crushing him into the ottoman.  Harry could not bring himself to care.  Malfoy panted for a moment, and then shoved his hips forward, driving his cock even deeper.  Harry shivered at the sensation and his cock twitched once more, expelling yet another spurt of fluid._ Godric, what was wrong with him?

_Malfoy’s hands trailed gently over his blistered arse, earning a moan.  Even that, Harry liked.  He was a sick, sick fuck, obviously._

_“You’re a kinky bastard, aren’t you, Potter?” Malfoy murmured, mirroring his thoughts.  “I’ll bet if I spanked you again, you could get it up in no time.  You would be hard and ready for me again, wouldn’t you?”_

_Harry felt his body respond eagerly, already primed for another Malfoy spanking.  “Let...  Let me up,” he said, but his voice would not work properly.  The sound was barely audible and Malfoy did not seem to hear him._

_“I wonder what other things turn you on? I’ll bet you would love to be tied up.  Would you like to be shackled to the bed like a captive prisoner, spanked raw and then fucked until you couldn’t see straight?”_

_Harry couldn’t speak.  The very thought of it made his cock start to swell and he was acutely aware of Malfoy still buried deep inside him.  He imagined what it would be like to be Malfoy’s prisoner, spanked and fondled and sucked...  He felt Malfoy’s lips on the back of his neck and then teeth.  Harry gasped, fully hard once more._

_Malfoy’s seductive voice droned on.  “You are a very bad boy, Potter.  I think you get away with far too many things and need to be punished more often.  Since no one else seems willing to put you in your place, I shall have to take matters into my own hands.”  Malfoy’s fingers squeezed his arse, hard, and Harry moaned helplessly, squirming beneath him._ Fuck, fuck, fuck.

_“I’ll be watching you, Potter.  And the next time you are a bad little Gryffindor...”  Malfoy’s hand smacked him lightly on the arse, sending a fresh sting of wicked pleasure straight to Harry’s cock.  “I’ll be here to punish you.”_

_Harry drew a shuddering breath at the words, but Malfoy pushed away and got to his feet.  Harry had no desire to face the consequences of Malfoy spotting his renewed erection.  He snatched up his glasses and scrambled for his clothing.  He tore them on haphazardly, clenching his teeth in pain as every brush of cloth seemed to burn like acid._

_He was extremely grateful for the darkened room when he turned to flee.  He made it as far as the door before Malfoy’s voice rang out._

_“Potter!”_

_Harry stared at him, holding Malfoy's gaze with effort._

_“I’ll be watching,” Malfoy taunted._

_A flare of pure desire nearly made him weak in the knees.  Harry managed to sneer at the demonic bastard before slipping out and slamming the door behind him._

 Merlin, he was doomed.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~The one that requires a stiff drink and a lie-down after reading~

The next three days were torment for Harry, albeit for varied reasons.  First, of course, was the fact that sitting down was extraordinarily painful.  He thought he might have bruises on top of his bruises.  Hermione was the only one who seemed to notice, thankfully, but she apparently chalked it up to Harry’s first encounter with Malfoy, being unaware of the second.  The jar of healing salve she provided helped quite a lot, but he still received a painful reminder each time he sat down.

Second was Malfoy’s permanent smirk.  Harry supposed it was the same smirk the bastard usually wore, but now it seemed far more secretive and knowing every time Harry caught sight of it.

Third were the thrice-damned _gloves_ that Malfoy seemed determined to wear at all times.  On the rare occasions he took them off—in class, generally—he always used his teeth to pull each separate finger away from his digits.  Watching the process did terrible things to Harry’s ability to breathe and he could never bring himself to look away.  He wondered if wizards could catch asthma.

Fourth were his dreams.  Even his daydreams had become nightmares.  He could not stop thinking about Malfoy and his damned hands. And his mouth.  And other things…  Harry groaned and dropped his head to the desktop, feeling his body respond—again.  He had wanked what felt like a thousand times.  Every bloody time he remembered Malfoy’s sibilant voice asking, “Would you like to be shackled to the bed like a captive prisoner, spanked raw and then fucked until you couldn’t see straight?” he found himself hard as a rock.  Like now.

He pressed the heel of his hand against his erection and tried to will it away, thankful that History of Magic was still the most boring class known to wizardkind, and that everyone was either asleep or staring off into space.

Lastly, his thoughts kept returning to Malfoy’s words.  “I’ll be watching.”  Harry had been going spare trying to think of what Malfoy might consider worthy of punishment.  Insulting Slytherins?  Bumping Malfoy in the hall?  Acquiring house-points for Gryffindor?

Harry shook off his spinning thoughts and focussed on the tedious lesson until his erection subsided enough that he could rise after class without embarrassing himself.

In the hallway, he ran straight into his nemesis, who seemed to have planted himself in the way just for that purpose.  Harry could not suppress a gasp as he found his chest pressed hard against Malfoy’s.  To his astonishment, a hand reached under his robes to firmly grip one arse cheek and squeeze.

At the same time, something was thrust down the front of his pants and Malfoy murmured, “Careful, Potter.  Running pell-mell though the halls might get someone _hurt_.”

Before Harry’s traitorous body could react to Malfoy’s nearness, he was gone.  Harry hurried to the nearest bathroom and tugged the piece of parchment free of his pants.  The note was blunt and alarming.

**_Meet me in the usual place at 11pm tonight.  Alone._ **

The word _alone_ was underlined twice, and Harry’s palms went suddenly damp.

He spent the rest of the afternoon agonizing over whether or not to meet Malfoy.  He knew he should call off this foolishness before it got out of control.  He cursed himself for letting it go as far as it had.

Harry stayed in the common room, pretending to study, until most of the other Gryffindors wandered off to their beds.  When the appointed time approached, Harry got to his feet and retrieved his invisibility cloak before slipping out.

He had made up his mind.  He would meet with Malfoy and tell him the game was over.  And if that didn’t work, Harry would just Obliviate him.  Even though he had never actually tried to Obliviate anyone.  Hopefully Malfoy would listen to reason, but if not…  Harry gripped his wand more tightly and nodded to himself.  It was a good plan.

What he didn’t count on was Malfoy’s cleverness.

Harry entered the room tentatively, shrugging off his cloak and draping it over his arm.  The place was even darker than it had been before, lit with a single guttering candle on one table near the wall. Malfoy was nowhere in sight.

Harry lifted his wand to cast a _Lumos_.

“ _Accio_ Potter’s wand!” he heard from behind him and then his wand tore from his fingers and winged over to the darkened corner where Malfoy lurked.  He had been seated in a chair and he got to his feet and walked towards Harry, barely visible.  “You’re late, Potter.  Punctuality is a virtue.  I believe I shall have to add to your punishment this evening.”

Harry scowled, even though his heart began to pound at the word _punishment_.  “Give me my wand, Malfoy.  And what are you talking about?  I haven’t done anything.”

“No, you’ve been a model Gryffindor the past few days.  I’m sure the teachers are all quite impressed.”

“Then what—?”

“But it occurred to me that there have been several incidences in your past that were never appropriately accounted for,” Malfoy continued.  As he spoke he smacked Harry’s wand against his open palm—once again clad in black gloves, Harry noted.  His mouth went dry at the sound and his mind spun with the memory of those gloves touching him.

Harry fought to speak normally.  “What are you talking about?  Can I have my wand?  Please?”  He held out his hand expectantly and felt his heart sink when Malfoy only smirked at him.

“The pleading is nice, but you might want to save it for later.  Remember in third year when you made an unauthorized trip to Hogsmeade, Potter?  I believe you threw mud at me.”

Harry gaped at him.  “Surely you don’t plan to get even for—?”

“Silence, Potter.”  Malfoy punctuated his command with a loud smack of Harry’s wand against his palm.  “As I was saying, you committed a transgression for which you were never punished.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Harry snapped.  “Look, I’m sorry I threw mud at you.  We were children.”

Malfoy sighed.  “Potter.  You seem to be missing the point.”  He walked closer, tucking Harry’s wand away into his robes as he did so.  Harry fought the urge to take a step back as Malfoy stopped directly in front of him and leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear.  “The point is…  You did something wrong and deserve to be punished.  Don’t you agree?”

Harry fought to speak through a suddenly dry throat.  “What—?”  His voice was a rasp and he swallowed hard before trying again.  “What sort of punishment?” he asked, hating himself for the question and for the uneven quality of his voice.

“Nothing too strenuous.  A mere ten lashes should be enough, don’t you think?”  Malfoy’s voice was smooth as silk and his nearness did strange things to Harry’s libido.  _Ten lashes_.  The very thought of it caused heat to slither through his veins and pool in his midsection.  After the twenty he had taken a few days ago, ten seemed like nothing.

"Ten.  And that's it?" Harry asked, not daring to ask the _real_ question.  He was afraid to voice it even in his own mind.

"Of course, Potter," Malfoy said smoothly.  "Unless you ask for something more."

Harry had to shut his eyes for a moment at the thought of _more_.  Ten lashes.  He could take ten easily without asking for _more_.  And then Malfoy would be satisfied and give his wand back and it would be over.

"Agreed?" Malfoy asked, breathing lightly in Harry's ear and sending shivers down his spine.

Harry nodded like an automaton and whispered, "Yeah.  All right."

Malfoy stepped back, instantly all business.  "Excellent.  I thought the floor was a bit uncomfortable for you, so I came up with an alternative."  He strode across the room and waved airily in Harry's direction, adding, "You may strip, now."

The words reverberated through Harry's head and he obediently pulled his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor where his cloak had landed.  He thought about asking why it was necessary that he be nude for these sessions, but he decided it was a stupid question better left unasked.

He kicked off his shoes and socks and glanced over to where Malfoy waited with obvious impatience.  Malfoy had lit several more candles and Harry could now see a large chair in the place where the ottoman had previously stood.

Even more riveting than the chair was the sight of Draco Malfoy _taking off his shirt_.

Harry opened his mouth to ask what Malfoy was doing when he snapped, "Tonight, Potter.  Don't make me add to your punishment for dawdling."

Harry scowled and slithered out of his jeans.  Malfoy seemed to have stopped disrobing after removing his shirt.  He stretched, flexing his arms.  Harry gaped at the sight of Malfoy's long, pale torso and firm pink nipples.  Malfoy lowered his arms and Harry padded across the room quickly, unwilling to earn another reprimand.

"Pants off, Potter," Malfoy said matter-of-factly.  "Now, then, this chair is entirely for your comfort.  Kneel on the seat and grip the carvings thusly."

Harry blushed and slipped out of his underwear before climbing onto the seat of the chair, facing towards the back.  The chair was thickly padded on seat, sides, and back.  His knees sank into the cushion slightly and he admitted it was quite a lot more comfortable than the floor.  There was also the added benefit that he was not sprawled over Malfoy’s lap, although the thought of Malfoy prowling around free held its own concern.  The upholstery was velvety soft--and green, naturally.

The top of the backrest was richly carved wood, made up of whorls and curlicue designs.  Two of the wooden carvings were almost like handles and Harry leaned forward to grip them experimentally.

"Very good, Potter.  Now, then, only one more detail."  Malfoy reached into a trouser pocket and produced a Slytherin tie.  Harry looked at it blankly until Malfoy looped it around his wrist and then bound it to the back of the chair.

"Hey!" Harry said.  "What are you doing?"

Harry lifted his other hand away from the chair, but Malfoy snatched it out of the air.  A second tie secured Harry's other wrist and Malfoy sneered at him.  "Just a little added incentive for you to keep your hands where they belong.  Besides, it’s safe enough.  You can untie them with your teeth, if need be."

"Why tie me up at all?" Harry demanded.

Malfoy leaned close to him.  "Because you like it."

Harry shivered and pulled at his bindings, but Malfoy was right.  He felt a bizarre thrill at the feel of the silk against his skin.  The knots looked simple enough to untie, if need be, and the bonds were not very tight.

Malfoy moved around behind him and Harry craned his neck, feeling suddenly very exposed, even though Malfoy had barely looked at him.

"Spread your legs, Potter."  Malfoy's tone was still bland and Harry debated resisting for only a moment.  Asking questions or arguing would annoy Malfoy and Harry knew he would obey eventually, regardless.  He took a shuddering breath and complied.

"Wider."

Harry cringed, but pushed his legs out to the edges of the chair, which suddenly seemed to have a ridiculously wide seat.  His cock and testicles dangled.  Harry nearly yelped when he felt another slide of silk against his ankle as Malfoy looped it around and tied him securely to the chair leg.  _Oh fuck_.

"Um... Malfoy?"

"Hush, Potter.  No more talking." Malfoy moved to Harry's other leg and bound that one to the other side, effectively strapping Harry to the chair.  A tendril of nervousness skittered through him, but beneath it was a thrilling anticipation.  His breath already came faster than normal and his heart raced.

"There," Malfoy said in satisfaction.  "You look very pretty tied up and at my mercy, Potter."  Harry felt a gloved hand touch his arse cheek in a gentle caress, moving from the top of his thigh up to the small of his back.  His skin broke out in gooseflesh.

The hand continued up his spine and halted near one shoulder blade.  Malfoy leaned over Harry to murmur, "How do you want it?  Gloves?  Bare hands?  Riding crop?  I brought one just for you."

_Riding crop_?  Harry's breath caught in his throat.  He had no idea what to say and thought speech would be impossible if he tried.

Malfoy chuckled.  "Very good, Potter.  You remembered not to speak.  You've earned a reward, although I’ll have to think about what that might be."

Harry blinked, trying to remember when Malfoy had told him not to speak, even while his brain nearly shorted out at the thought of a _reward_.

"I think we will start with the riding crop," Malfoy added.

Harry's head jerked up when Malfoy moved away, taking his gloved hand with him.  Harry craned his neck and watched as he walked to a nearby table and picked up a short length of black leather.  Malfoy swished it experimentally through the air and Harry nearly choked.

He started to speak, but then remembered that Malfoy had ordered him not to.  He weighed the consequences of his captor's annoyance against being spanked with a _riding crop_ , but by then Malfoy had returned.  Harry gasped when he felt the cool leather slide over his back to caress his buttocks and upper thighs as Malfoy drew it lightly over his skin.

Harry heard a brief hissing noise and then a loud crack as the whip sliced across his arse.  Harry cried out and jerked as stinging pain flared across his nether parts and outward from the stripe, seeming to jolt through his entire body.

“One,” Malfoy said clinically as Harry struggled to draw a breath.

"Two."  A second blow crossed over the first and Harry’s hands clenched on the wood as his body rocked.  He did not have enough breath to cry out and simply made a strangled noise.

"Like that, Potter?" Malfoy asked, and Harry shut his eyes tightly, because apparently he _did_.  His cock jutted forward, fully hard.  His arse felt like sticks of fire had been laid across it and he panted hard as he waited for the next blow.

It took so long that Harry nearly looked over his shoulder to see if Malfoy had stopped, so the third slice caught him by surprise.  The blow struck the soft flesh directly above his thighs and Harry yelped.  A flare of heat sped outward and Harry’s cock hardened even more.  He shifted in the seat, trying to shield the evidence of his arousal from Malfoy, to no avail.

Malfoy’s gloved hand suddenly wrapped around Harry’s cock, wrenching forth an involuntary moan.  He shuddered.

“You _do_ like that,” Malfoy purred.  “I thought you might.”  A fourth slash hit slightly above the last one and Harry jerked in Malfoy’s grasp, thrusting into the hand that held him.  _Merlin_ , it was both horrifying and _brilliant_.

"Don't move," Malfoy warned and another sharp blow angled across the others.  Harry fought to hold still.  He could hardly breathe through the pain, but it warred for dominance with the urge to come.  _Five_.  Merlin, they were only halfway through.

"I think that’s enough of that," Malfoy said and Harry heard the whip hit the floor.  He would have sagged with relief, except that Malfoy's gloved hand was still in place on his erection, unmoving, but _there_.

Harry heard a whisper of sound and then something soft dropped onto the small of his back.  Godric, it was Malfoy’s other glove.  The thought barely registered before Harry felt Malfoy’s bare hand questing over his buttocks, squeezing the welts and drawing another pained gasp from him even as his cock twitched in Malfoy’s gloved fist.

A bare-handed blow landed directly across Harry’s buttocks, the sound cracking loudly in the still room.  The force of it drove Harry forwards and his forehead nearly hit the back of the chair.  His prick moved in Malfoy’s hand, sending his curved fingers against Harry’s testicles.  Harry held more tightly to the chair with sweat-slick hands and pushed himself back into position, shivering when Malfoy’s leather-clad hand relaxed enough to slip back to the midpoint of his shaft.

Harry needed to come so badly he nearly screamed aloud.  Dear Merlin, why did the bastard have to leave his glove on?  For some reason, it seemed a thousand times hotter than his bare flesh would have been.

Harry barely braced himself in time for the seventh strike, which landed directly across the first two welts and sent a fresh spike of pain jolting through his cock.  How could it hurt and yet feel so fucking good?

Malfoy's bare hand rubbed slowly over Harry's throbbing arse, arousing a new level of sensation and hardening his cock even further, although he wouldn’t have thought it possible.  He knew it was leaking profusely, possibly dripping onto the seat of the chair.

"Only three left, Potter." Malfoy sounded almost regretful.  "We had best make them count, yeah?"

Malfoy’s gloved hand released him and Harry nearly sagged in relief, not knowing until then how much it had affected him.  Malfoy moved until he stood directly behind him and Harry sucked in a mortified breath at the knowledge that he was fully exposed for Malfoy’s perusal.

Malfoy put his hands on Harry’s arse, one gloved and one bare.  They moved over Harry's burning flesh, gripping and caressing, gently massaging the tender skin and sending alternating bursts of pleasure and pain shuddering through Harry’s quivering body.

Malfoy’s fingers splayed over the curve of his arse and his thumbs caressed his testicles in small circles before gliding upwards.  Harry felt Malfoy’s thumbs pulling his cheeks apart and he moaned, his mind nearly shorting out at the thought of what Malfoy might do next.  Harry felt like a wanton whore, but when Malfoy bent down and licked a stripe over his arsehole, he simply didn't care.

Malfoy did it again, flattening his tongue and pressing hard, sliding it from the base of Harry’s testicles up and over his hole, tearing a ragged cry from Harry’s throat.

“Shhhhh,” Malfoy warned.  “Don’t come.”  His mouth and hands left Harry then, long enough to deliver another sharp spank to the centre of Harry’s right arse cheek, surprising him.  One of Harry’s hands slipped, but the silk tie held him in place and he quickly regained his hold.

Thankfully, the minor distraction helped him stave off his impending orgasm.  _Don’t come_ , he repeated to himself.  _Don’t come, don’t come_.

And then Malfoy’s hands were back, spreading him wide once more and his wicked voice asked, “Want me to tongue-fuck you, Potter?”

Harry nearly spoke aloud and barely masked the words with a hoarse cry.  He clamped his lips shut and nodded in an exaggerated fashion several times.

“Mmmm, not quite yet,” Malfoy said and then his hands disappeared again.  Harry nearly yowled in frustration.  He heard movement, but was afraid to look back and determine what torment Malfoy had in store for him next.  He found out moments later, when Malfoy’s bare chest pressed against his buttocks, making Harry’s tingling arse burn.

Something brushed over Harry’s cock and he looked down to find Malfoy wrapping another tie around the base of his cock, tight enough that it was almost uncomfortable.  How many of the damned things had he brought?  Harry nearly laughed at the thought of Slytherin house waking up to find all of their school ties missing.

“That should help,” Malfoy said and gave the silk a final tug before drawing two gloved fingers up Harry’s shaft and over the slit, smearing the wetness there.  Harry’s cock twitched, but the pressure seemed lessened, at least until Malfoy’s bare hand groped his balls and squeezed lightly.  Harry moaned with a shudder.

“You are a kinky little whore, aren’t you?” Malfoy whispered and squeezed again.  Harry could only nod as Malfoy’s hand moved upward again and he braced himself for the return of Malfoy’s tongue, which came with agonizing slowness as Malfoy took his sweet time licking a path up one side of Harry’s crack and down the next, even as his hands kneaded and pulled at Harry’s throbbing arse.

Harry was on the verge of begging, pressing backward as far as he could reach, dying for Malfoy’s tongue to go where he needed it, whimpering and gasping at the tingles of both pleasure and pain.

It came without warning—Malfoy’s mouth was suddenly there, lapping at his arsehole, sucking it for a moment, and then pressing inside.  Harry cried out and thrashed in his bonds, nearly yanking free of Malfoy’s probing flesh, except the grip on his arse was firm and Malfoy moved with him, shoving forward until his tongue was as deep as it could possibly go.

Harry had never felt anything like it.  He sobbed and squirmed, unable to remain still as Malfoy stabbed at him again and again with his hot, wet, exquisite tongue.  Harry whimpered incoherently, over and over, and lost his grip on the chair, instead clinging to the ties with both hands, not caring when they cut into his wrists and pulled tight.  The binding around his cock kept him from coming and the torment seemed to go on forever as Malfoy licked and sucked, and worked his tongue in and out in of Harry’s throbbing hole with methodical Slytherin cunning.

He stopped suddenly, leaving Harry a sobbing, quivering mess.  Harry strained back against his bonds, seeking more contact, _desperate_ for more.  His skin was so sensitised that the very air seemed to prickle against his flesh and when the blow came he actually screamed and clawed at the back of the chair.

“Only one left, Potter.”  Malfoy’s voice seemed perfectly normal, as though turning Harry into a shuddering, moaning, twisting creature of pure lust was a daily occurrence.  “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Harry nodded and kept nodding until he thought his neck might snap.  He would have agreed to anything Malfoy suggested at the moment, _anything at all_ , which would have been a disturbing thought if his world wasn’t centred on his erogenous zones and his overwhelming need for release.

“That’s extremely wicked of you, Potter.  I’m sure everyone you know would be highly disturbed.  Are you absolutely certain?  I want you to say it, so that we are both perfectly clear.  You may speak.”

As though released from an actual gag, Harry babbled almost incoherently.  “Please,” he begged.  “Please, fuck me; I want you to fuck me, Malfoy.  Please, yes, _please, now, right now_.”

Malfoy’s bare hand connected one last time with Harry’s arse, though he barely felt it through the haze of frustrated need.

“You’re such a bad boy, Potter,” Malfoy said, but his tone sounded almost affectionate and then his hands were gripping Harry’s cheeks, pulling him wider as his cock pressed inside, slowly this time.

Harry was so open and ready that he actually pushed back against Malfoy and welcomed the stretching, burning sensation as more and more of Malfoy’s hard cock filled him.  He didn’t even know if Malfoy had removed his trousers or simply dropped them and let them fall, although he would have wagered on the latter.  Combined with the single glove Malfoy still wore, it was a ridiculously tantalizing image that he would conjure over and over again much later.

Malfoy thrust deeply once, twice, and then drew almost completely out.  Harry sobbed raggedly as Malfoy’s cock head perched just inside his entrance.  Harry’s hole clenched, trying to pull him back inside.  He tried to push against Malfoy, but he was already at the limit of his bonds.

“I want you back here tomorrow, Potter. Tell me you’ll be back for more.”

Harry froze as the immensity of the demand nearly overwhelmed his need.  He couldn’t come back.  He couldn’t continue this foolishness, this _insanity_.  It had to stop tonight.

Malfoy pushed in again with agonizing slowness, curling ribbons of heat through Harry’s blood like insidious poison.  “Say it,” Malfoy said with determination.

Harry succumbed, losing the last fragments of rationality once more.  “I will."

“Swear it,” Malfoy insisted.  His breath was hot against Harry’s ear, coming in gasps nearly as uneven as his own.

“I swear!” Harry vowed.  “I swear I’ll be back.”

“Whenever I say,” Malfoy added, pushing deeper and deeper.

“Oh, Merlin, whenever you say, whatever you want,” Harry cried, thrusting his hips back desperately and nearly screaming when something inside sent a spike of pleasure shivering through him.  It was nearly too much.

“Good boy.” Harry felt fingers brushing lightly over his cock before the pressure of the tie suddenly released.

Malfoy pulled nearly out and rammed forward, hitting that exquisite spot once more.  “Come for me,” he said at the same time and Harry _did_.  He came with a scream that should have clamoured through the entire castle, but the force of it could not be contained.  He came and came and came, shuddering and gasping and _reeling_ from it.

He was only vaguely aware of Malfoy’s continued thrusts, pumping into him and sending fresh spasms rocking through his body with every movement.  Near electric quivers wracked Harry’s body over and over until he wondered if it would ever stop.

Malfoy sagged against him and even the flutters of Malfoy's release sent shivers coursing through Harry.

“Fuck,” Malfoy murmured.  “Fucking hell.”

_Fucking hell_ , Harry agreed.  _That’s where I’m going_.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Draco starts to get in over his head...

Draco panted against Potter’s neck, overcome. He had never experienced anything so intense in his life. Potter’s submission was the most thrilling thing imaginable and Draco could not quite believe it was real.  
   
Potter shifted beneath him, slick with sweat, gasping for air, and Draco wrapped his arms around Potter’s torso, holding him tightly. He almost felt like _thanking_ him for such an amazing gift, but he knew the words would probably confuse Potter. Draco thought it best to maintain his controlling personae, which had served him incredibly well so far. He could hardly believe his own temerity in not only taking away Potter’s wand, but in ordering him around, spanking him, and then fucking him near-senseless.  
   
His cock moved slightly at the reminder, still deeply buried inside Potter. Draco finally noticed that he was crushing the uncomplaining boy, and that Potter’s hands were tightly clenched around the Slytherin ties that bound his wrists.  
   
Draco reluctantly pulled away, moving as slowly as possible and dragging his hands over every bit of Potter’s skin he could reach during the motion. His cock slipped out wetly and Draco had to suppress the urge to bend down and lick the reddened opening clean, which was disturbing, to say the least. And yet Potter’s response to Draco's tonguing had been extraordinary. Draco wanted more of it. His cock began to harden at the very idea and Draco groaned, dropping his forehead to rest on the small of Potter's back.  
   
He couldn't. It was nearly midnight and they both had classes the next day. Besides, Potter had promised he would return.  
   
 _Whenever you say; whatever you want.  
_    
He suppressed a shiver of emotion and pressed his lips to the cleft of Potter's arse, earning a tiny gasp. Draco smiled. He bent down and untied Potter's ankles.  
   
Potter clamped his knees together and repositioned himself on the chair, making a vain attempt at modesty that only made Draco want to open him up once more. He ran a hand over Potter's reddened arse as a minor form of punishment.  
   
Potter squirmed, but made no sound, so Draco left off the torment in order to pull up his own pants and trousers. He had not bothered to remove them while fucking Potter, which had made it even more delicious, somehow.  
   
Draco moved to the back of the chair and plucked at Potter's bonds, but they had tightened beyond the ability of his fingers to undo. Potter kept his head down, gaze apparently fixed on the seat of the chair. His glasses had fallen off long ago and lay near his knees.  
   
Draco pulled out his wand and spelled the ties free. Potter immediately snatched up his glasses, left the chair, and bolted for his clothing across the room. He seemed as skittish as a wild deer. Draco watched lazily as Potter dragged his apparel back on, not even bothering to clean himself up--probably because his wand still rested in Draco's robes. It amused him to think of Potter returning to his dorm splattered with his own come and reeking of sex. He debated keeping the wand overnight, but knew such an act might be a deal-breaker for Potter. Draco instinctively knew he needed to find exactly the right balance to keep Potter in the palm of his hand.  
   
When Potter was fully dressed, he tugged the invisibility cloak over himself, disappearing in stages until only his head was visible. He turned and looked at Draco reluctantly.  
   
"May I have my wand?" he asked politely.  
   
Draco walked to his fallen robes and picked them up. "Of course," he said and fished Potter's wand from a pocket. He walked over and held it out to Potter. To his credit, Potter did not snatch the length of holly; he grasped the end gently and waited for Draco to let go.  
   
Draco did so and Potter walked quickly to the door.  
   
"Potter!" Draco called sharply. Potter flinched and waited with one hand on the door, jutting eerily from the nothingness of the cloak, as Draco approached. "You forgot your reward."  
   
Potter's eyes widened and he half-turned to stare at Draco. "My... my what?"  
   
Draco frowned. "Well, if you don't want it..."  
   
"No, I—I do!" Potter said quickly.  
   
"All right, then," Draco replied. He lifted a hand and cupped Potter's jaw before leaning in to place a kiss on his lips. Potter drew in a surprised breath, but he did not pull away. Draco moved his hand to the back of Potter's neck and pushed his fingers into the damp hair, tugging Potter even closer.  
As though instructed, Potter opened his lips, giving Draco access. He accepted the invitation greedily, plundering Potter's mouth with gentle intensity, mapping the contours with the intention of leaving an invisible mark of ownership. When he finally pulled away, Potter looked half-dazed and Draco felt a rush of satisfaction. He dared anyone to kiss Potter better.  
And then he frowned, not appreciating the thought of anyone kissing Potter at all. "Tomorrow," he reminded brusquely and Potter nodded before dragging the hood of the cloak over his face. He slipped through the door and escaped.  
   
Draco smiled as the door clicked shut, feeling almost giddy. The feeling only increased when he glanced back at the chair and noticed Potter’s pants lying on the floor near the ornate piece of furniture. He had been in such a rush to flee that he had left them behind.  
   
Foolish Gryffindor.  
   
◊◊◊◊◊◊  
   
Harry felt like a basket of nerves. He had nearly skived off breakfast, but knew Hermione’s merciless questions would never cease unless he had a damned good excuse. He sat down and pretended to eat by nibbling on a piece of toast. In truth, his stomach was in knots and the idea of food made him want to heave.  
   
Malfoy had been watching him off and on throughout the meal, and Harry could not suppress a blush whenever he noticed. It was impossible not to feel a rush whenever Malfoy's grey eyes fixed on him. There was simply too much to remember and every moment of it induced mortification.  
   
Mortification… and something else. Every time Harry sat down, his arse ached. From the bruises on his backside to the wrenching twinge caused by never-before used muscles, he was in a state of near-constant discomfort.  
   
Even so, the memory of how he had got that way served to stop his breathing a dozen times while he remembered Malfoy’s hands, and tongue, and _cock_ … He pressed the heel of his palm against his erection, hoping no one around him noticed the movement. He dared not look towards the Slytherin table, expecting that a certain blond _had_ noticed.  
   
Harry thought about his unfinished Potions homework and kept his eyes on his plate as he moved the food around enough to satisfy Hermione’s sharp eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when his erection subsided and breakfast finally ended. He followed Ron and Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower without another glance toward Malfoy.  
   
His own words kept echoing in his mind. _I’ll be back. Whenever you say, whatever you want_. He half-dreaded receiving a message from Malfoy telling him when, because underneath the dread was a horrifying sense of anticipation.  
   
Once in Gryffindor Tower, Harry's footsteps plodded up the stairs to his room. He froze when he saw a small, flat box sitting on his bed. He rushed over and shoved it surreptitiously beneath his pillow before Ron noticed, thankful that his friend had been walking behind him. Ron was intent on locating his Potions book and ignored Harry anyway.  
   
“Here it is,” Ron said and held it up. “Got yours?”  
   
“Yeah. Hey, you go along without me,” Harry said. “I need to correct something on my homework. I just thought of it.”  
   
Ron looked dubious. “Yeah?”  
   
“Go on, I’ll try to get there on time, but no sense both of us being late if I don’t make it.”  
   
Ron nodded. “All right. I’ll let Hermione know. She might faint to know you’re fixing your homework.” He snickered.  
   
Harry forced a laugh and waited until Ron’s footsteps disappeared before he turned and snatched at the box. He wrenched it open and a small card fluttered out, but Harry’s attention was focused on the contents.  
   
He held the item up in stunned amazement.  
   
It was a pair of knickers. _Girl’s_ knickers. An emerald green scrap of silk and lace.  
   
Confused, Harry dropped the garment and picked up the card. It read: **_You left your pants behind, so I acquired you some new ones. I’ll expect you to wear them today. All day. I will be checking._**  
   
Harry swallowed hard and took them up again, tracing a finger over the patterned lace. The thought of wearing them beneath his trousers was disturbing, but the thought of Malfoy _checking_ … Harry’s face flamed and he quickly tore off his trousers and pants before sliding on the bit of silk. It was far more erotic than he had expected.  
   
The silk felt brilliantly soft where it cupped his balls and buttocks. The front of the pants barely covered his cock—the tip peeped out regardless of where he tucked himself.  
   
“This is crazy,” he muttered.  
   
Even so, he quickly pulled his clothing back on and cast _Incendio_ on the message before pelting out and making it to Potions in the nick of time.  
   
◊◊◊◊◊◊  
   
Potter looked a fright. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he appeared as though he had not even bothered to drag a comb through his hair after their activities—an idea that appealed to Draco no small amount. At breakfast he had blushed beautifully and shifted in his seat often. Twice Draco had caught him rubbing his wrists.  
   
Each time their eyes had met, the Potter had flushed scarlet and looked away, finally earning a suspicious glare or two from Granger, who had turned it immediately on Draco, who had pretended not to notice.  
   
In truth, it was all he could do not to fix his gaze on Potter and watch his every movement. Draco wanted to touch his bruises and remind him who had put them there. He wanted to kiss those lips again, and suck and bite on parts of Potter that had never been touched by anyone else. The thought was dizzying.  
   
Potter arrived in Potions in his usual hurried fashion, rushing in and flinging himself into his seat at the last moment. His eyes sought Draco’s the instant he stepped into the room, but he quickly flushed and looked away.  
   
Draco’s eyes moved lazily over him and he wondered if Potter was wearing his little gift. Draco had nicked them from Pansy, knowing the bint had several “special” pairs that she kept for nonexistent special occasions. The emerald ones had caught Draco’s attention immediately; they reminded him of Potter’s eyes.  
   
Draco could not tell from Potter’s demeanour. The boy had been a blushing mess all morning and his behaviour had not changed.  
   
Class seemed interminable. Draco made the listed potion and watched as Potter fumbled his ingredients and destroyed his mixture by adding too much moonwort. Draco sighed. Potter was pathetic, really. Draco was not sure what was so attractive about the git, besides his arse. And possibly his lips. And those hands. And, of course, his lovely cock and that adorable pair of bollocks…  
   
Draco yanked his thoughts back to his potion as he capped it and turned it in, willing his erection to subside and thankful for his loose robes.  
   
He packed his items and was the first one to leave when class ended. He waited in the hallway that led to the Potion Master’s quarters as the students filed by, heading for the Great Hall. Potter and his friends were nearly the last to leave and Draco watched as they walked by, chatting amicably. Potter seemed relaxed, finally, but Draco’s Stinging Hex ended that.  
   
Potter yelped and rubbed his arse. Draco smirked as Granger asked what was wrong.  
   
“I… ah… forgot something. I’ll catch up!” Potter said loudly. Granger and the Weasel looked at him dubiously, but they shrugged and moved on while Potter waited, pretending to search in his school bag. The last of the students straggled past and then Potter turned and marched towards Draco’s hiding place.  
   
“That hurt!” he snapped.  
   
“It’s a Stinging Hex. It’s supposed to hurt,” Draco commented dryly. His hand shot out and grabbed Potter’s improperly knotted tie. He pulled Potter inward mercilessly until their torsos were locked together. Potter’s glare was venomous. “Besides, you like it rough, remember?” Draco pitched his voice as low and dangerous-sounding as possible and added, “Are you wearing them?”  
   
Potter’s glare disappeared and his eyes widened as he swallowed. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded.  
   
Draco grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Let me see.” He loosened his hold on Potter’s tie, allowing him some freedom.  
   
Potter’s fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers, giving Draco another thrill at his quick, wordless compliance, although Potter shot a nervous glance towards the opening of the hallway.  
   
The material fell open to reveal a hint of emerald green silk. Draco released Potter’s tie completely and put both hands on the waistband of his trousers to yank them down even more. The sight was riveting.  
   
Potter’s cock grew as Draco watched, stretching the delicate material and causing the head of his prick to peek out over the top edge of lace. Draco stared and pushed his tongue out to wet his suddenly dry lower lip. _Fuck_.  
   
He trailed his fingernails over Potter’s hardness, scratching lightly through the fabric and dragging a tortured-sounding moan from Potter. A bead of precome appeared at the tip of Potter’s pretty cock and Draco had to fight hard to suppress the urge to bend down and lick it clean.  
   
He located his voice and whispered, “Very good, Potter. I see you like them. Tell me you like them.”  
   
“I… I like them,” Potter rasped. He shivered as Draco kept up the delicate tease of nails over silk.  
   
“Do you want me to spank you while you’re wearing them?”  
   
Potter shuddered and gasped. “Yes.” His voice was barely audible.  
   
 _Salazar_. Draco was rock-hard. Giving up the fight, he dropped to his knees impulsively and licked the tip of Potter’s cock, pressing the salty-bitter precome against the roof of his mouth and deciding it wasn’t that bad, especially when tasting it made Potter twitch so violently his head flew back and he made a violent gurgling sound.  
   
Draco wrapped his lips around the head and sucked gently while his tongue lapped the slit clean. Potter’s hands went to Draco’s hair, clenching tightly as another shiver rocked his frame.  
   
Draco got to his feet with a tsking sound and Potter’s hands fell away. “For shame, Potter. Touching my hair without permission is a punishable offense. I’ll see you tonight at eleven. Don’t be late.”  
   
Draco turned to walk away, but stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, and don’t wank. I’ll know if you’ve come.” He jerked a thumb toward Potter’s exposed crotch. “And keep those on.”  
   
With a light step, Draco left the panting Gryffindor behind.  
   
◊◊◊◊◊◊  
   
Harry entered the room with trepidation, frowning when he noticed it was pitch dark in the chamber. There were no welcoming candles, nor light from the windows—clouds had overtaken Hogwarts and it was gloomy and wet outside.  
   
Harry raised his wand to cast a _Lumos_ , holding it tightly this time, and blinked against the brightness when it lit.  
   
“You’re early, Potter. I’m impressed.”  
   
Malfoy sat in the chair Harry had occupied the night before, looking very relaxed and casual in a white jumper and dark trousers. He looked like he owned everything in the room—including Harry. His next words strengthened that impression.  
   
“Come here.”  
   
Harry felt a flare of annoyance at the imperious tone, but then Malfoy lifted a finger and beckoned to him, just as he had done twice before, and Harry’s breath caught, remembering everything Malfoy had done to him. His feet carried him forward until he stood next to the chair.  
   
Malfoy produced his own wand and lit the candles. Harry allowed the light from his wand to die, absurdly grateful for the lesser illumination of the tiny flames. Malfoy pointed at the floor between his legs and Harry swallowed hard before moving to stand in the designated place. He stared down at Malfoy, who looked entirely too relaxed. Harry’s wand was still in his hand, but it seemed utterly ineffectual.  
   
Malfoy reached up and took Harry’s wand, using two fingers, as though not entirely sure Harry wouldn’t hex him. Harry felt a wrench as Malfoy placed it with his own on the seat of the chair, but the pang was drowned by Malfoy’s words. “Take off your trousers.”  
   
Harry’s heart began to thud as he toed off his shoes and unfastened his trousers. He let them fall and then stepped out of them before kicking them beneath the chair to join his shoes. He still wore the emerald panties, of course, although his erection was partially disguised by the hem of the t-shirt he wore, which hung over the material.  
   
“Shirt, too.”  
   
Harry flushed as he complied, dragging the black shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He stood before Malfoy clad in nothing but girl’s knickers, which would have been more embarrassing if not for Malfoy’s riveted expression. Harry had felt faint in the dungeon corridor earlier, when Malfoy had got _on his knees_ and taken the head of Harry’s cock into his normally-smirking mouth. The memory made his erection twitch and he realized just how close to coming he was. He had been half-hard all day and it had taken real effort to keep from disregarding Malfoy’s orders and bringing himself off. Already, the head of his cock peeped over the upper edge of the panties, the lace and silk too small to contain it.  
   
“Very good, Potter,” Malfoy said now and reached out to smear precome over the head of Harry’s cock with one cool finger. Harry shuddered at his touch and then stared when Malfoy moved the finger to his mouth and sucked on it. _Merlin_ , there was no way he would last. He trembled with the exertion of resisting orgasm.  
   
Malfoy leaned forward and blew lightly on the head of Harry's cock. Harry had to clench his hands into fists, needing desperately to reach out and drag Malfoy’s mouth onto his cock, dying for him to suck it as he had earlier. As though reading Harry’s mind, Malfoy did just that. He took the head into his mouth and swirled his tongue over it. Harry threw back his head and moaned as he shuddered helplessly.  
   
“You want to come, don’t you, Potter?” Malfoy asked and nibbled on the sensitive flesh beneath the head of Harry’s cock, using his tongue to push beneath the lace of the panties.  
   
“Yes, Merlin, yes,” Harry said around a groan.  
   
“You didn’t wank today, did you?”  
   
Malfoy tugged at the material of the panties with his fingers, pulling them down until Harry’s cock was fully exposed. His testicles rested on the lace edging. He shook his head crazily and then realized Malfoy could not see the motion, occupied as he was with his task. “No,” he rasped.  
   
Malfoy’s tongue caressed the underside of Harry’s cock from tip to base and back again. Harry’s nails dug into the palms of his hands.  
   
“Very well,” Malfoy murmured. “You may come.”  
   
With that, Malfoy took Harry’s entire cock into his mouth. With a shout of surprise, Harry came, shuddering crazily as he pumped what seemed a thousand litres of semen into Malfoy’s shockingly eager mouth.  
   
Malfoy swallowed all of it, sucking and lapping at Harry until every last drop had been consumed and Harry’s tingling shudders lessened. He fought to stay on his feet. His legs were shaking. Malfoy’s hands gripped his hips, ostensibly to keep Harry in place. He belatedly noticed that his hands were tangled in Malfoy’s blond hair.  
   
Malfoy pulled away with one final, teasing lick that sent a quivering spasm through Harry’s body. The grey eyes met his reproachfully. “Potter, what did I tell you about touching my hair?”  
   
Harry snatched his hands away and winced when a couple of strands snagged in his fingers, bringing a look of annoyance to Malfoy’s face.  
   
“Well, now that you’ve received your reward for being obedient and timely, I see it’s time for your double punishment for forgetting yourself.”  
   
Harry pouted, wondering what was so terrible about touching Malfoy’s perfect hair—which was remarkably soft and touchable—but the word _punishment_ quickly dispelled his annoyance. His spent cock twitched immediately, obviously ready for whatever Malfoy would choose to inflict upon him.  
   
Malfoy’s fingers took the edges of the green panties and pulled them back into place over Harry’s cock, covering the entire thing now that it was no longer engorged. Then he got to his feet, standing so close to Harry that their torsos brushed together. The silk of Malfoy’s shirt rubbed against Harry’s nipples and even those were so sensitive that Harry nearly shuddered. He refused to step back, a negligible act of defiance considering everything he had already acceded to Malfoy.  
   
Malfoy did not comment, however, only stepped aside and walked around the chair, pausing only long enough to take up their wands before heading for another portion of the room. A large brown sofa rested against the wall and he stopped next to it. “Come here, Potter.”  
   
Harry did as bid, padding across the room in his bare feet, and wished the place had some form of carpeting. He stopped next to Malfoy, who smirked at him, looking more handsome than ever before. Harry decided that cock sucking had a remarkable effect on someone’s attractiveness.  
   
“I once mentioned that you needed to be shackled to a bed, Potter.” Malfoy pointed his wand at the sofa, which elongated and changed until a large four-poster bed stood where it had been. Harry felt a jolt of something that was not quite terror, especially when Malfoy called, “ _Accio_ , shackles!”  
   
Several bits of metal and chain flew across the room into Malfoy’s outstretched hand. Harry stared at them. Malfoy couldn’t be serious. It was too much; already it had gone on far longer than he should have allowed. Harry took a step back, shaking his head.  
   
Malfoy dropped the shackles onto the bed and reached out to snatch Harry’s wrist, preventing him from fleeing. His gaze was sober. “Scared, Potter?” he asked in a whisper. Despite the words, there was no hint of mockery.  
   
Harry was. Frankly, he was terrified. This entire thing was madness. What the hell was he doing, letting Draco Malfoy do… whatever he wanted? He had to be crazy. Malfoy’s father worked for Voldemort, the mad wizard determined to kill Harry at all costs. Putting himself so completely into Draco’s hands was beyond stupidity.  
   
Malfoy sighed and then held out Harry’s wand. “You can free yourself any time, Potter. I promise.”  
   
Harry took his wand with the hand not trapped in Malfoy’s grip. Its comforting weight steadied him. He wanted to ask, _then, why_? but he held the words back. Malfoy did not seem to be thinking things through any better than Harry, or he never would have fallen to his knees outside the Potions classroom. Merlin, the memory was still awe-inducing.  
   
“This never goes beyond this room,” Harry whispered.  
   
Malfoy met his gaze steadily. “Certainly not.”  
   
Bizarrely, and possibly insanely, Harry trusted him. Surely he would have let out Harry’s secret by now? There would have been snickers and whispers and curious looks from the Slytherins closest to Malfoy, but none of them had paid him any more attention than usual.  
   
Harry took a deep, steadying breath. “All right.”  
   
Malfoy seemed to light up like a candle, nearly making Harry smile, except that he was still nervous about the metal shackles on the bed and wondering what he had just agreed to do.  
   
“Get on the bed,” Malfoy said. “Lie face down.”  
   
He let go of Harry’s wrist and Harry crawled onto the bed, sprawling face down, as instructed. He kept hold of his wand, willing to trust Malfoy, but not to the point of stupidity. Regardless, he gasped when the first cold shackle clapped around his wrist. Malfoy pulled it to the corner of the bed and attached it to the post. He did the same to Harry’s ankles, spreading his legs apart, and finally his other wrist.  
   
Harry was suddenly glad of the silk panties—they kept him from feeling completely exposed and vulnerable. He was surprised when Malfoy placed a folded cloak beneath his head for a pillow. From the scent, Harry knew it was Malfoy’s.  
   
“Merlin, Potter, how you look right now…” Malfoy’s voice was barely audible and Harry raised his head and looked over his shoulder, but Malfoy was already moving away. Harry felt a moment of panic, thinking Malfoy meant to leave him, and then mentally kicked himself, because his wand was still in his hand. He could release himself and leave at any time.  
   
When Malfoy returned, his voice was brisk and confident once more. “So, Potter. Double punishment time. Your normal punishment is ten spankings, yes? I know you can handle twenty, but I think I’ll start with ten and go from there. And I have something new to try.”  
   
That got Harry’s attention. He raised his head in alarm and peered over his shoulder again, but whatever Malfoy held was out of Harry’s view.  
   
“Malfoy?” he asked, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice.  
   
“Silence, Potter. You no longer have permission to speak.”  
   
Harry’s lips thinned in annoyance, but he put his cheek back on the cloak and braced himself as the bed shifted. Malfoy’s knee touched Harry’s hip as he knelt on the bed. Despite himself, he nearly jolted off the bed as he felt a touch on his buttocks, but it was only Malfoy’s hand, resting on Harry’s left arse cheek gently. “Easy,” Malfoy said, “It’s only my hand.”  
   
Harry calmed, strangely gratified that Malfoy had bothered to soothe him. Malfoy’s hand trailed over the silk panties for a moment and then tugged at the elastic waistband before letting it go with a snap. The tiny sting was a mere precursor for what Harry expected was coming and he was ready when Malfoy’s palm smacked down.  
   
“One,” Malfoy said.  
   
Harry welcomed the bloom of pain, now familiar and almost necessary.  
   
“Two.” Malfoy’s hand slapped his other arse cheek and Harry squirmed at the sting. The chains on his ankles clinked at the movement.  
   
“Three,” was slightly lower than the first and Malfoy’s fingertips grazed Harry’s testicles through the fabric as the smack sounded.  
   
The fourth and fifth blows landed on Harry’s upper thighs, barely touching his buttocks at all. Despite his orgasm minutes before, Harry’s cock began to swell and the pace of his breathing increased with every hit. One hand clenched around his wand and the fingernails of the other dug into his palm.  
   
“Six,” Malfoy said and Harry cried out when a completely different sharp cracked sliced across his arse, leaving a burning trail in its wake. “I told you I had something new.”  
   
Fuck, what was it? Leather, obviously, but not the riding crop. It was softer and more pliant—like a belt. A thin belt or leather strip.  
   
“Do you like that?” Malfoy asked and then a hiss warned Harry of the seventh blow before it angled over his arse. He jerked against his bonds and drove his cock into the mattress with a half sob.  
   
Harry wanted to shake his head in denial, but fuck it all, he _did_ like it. He liked it more than he would have imagined. Malfoy waited, probably to see if Harry would protest, but then he made a satisfied sound and struck again. The eighth blow landed on Harry’s thighs and flicked over his testicles. He moaned at the explosion of pleasure and squirmed helplessly.  
   
“Fuck, Potter,” Malfoy said breathily. Harry felt Malfoy’s hand wrench at the panties, dragging them down to expose Harry’s bare arse and, in his current stretched position, his arsehole.  
   
Harry should have been embarrassed, but instead he was turned on past reason. He had to bite his lower lip to keep from begging for the ninth spanking, but he couldn’t help angling his hips slightly, pushing his arse into the air as far as he could in mute supplication.  
   
He heard Malfoy’s sharply indrawn breath and then the next blow struck his bare flesh, driving him back down to the mattress and sending flickers of mingled pain and pleasure shooting straight through his cock.  
   
The tenth was the hardest blow yet, leaving what had to be a welt over one arse cheek and his upper thigh, but Harry was beyond caring. He was half-mindless, needing _more_.  
   
He heard Malfoy scramble over his thigh to slide between his parted legs. Malfoy placed both hands against his burning, flaming arse and pulled his cheeks apart roughly. Malfoy’s breathing sounded ragged and loud as he knelt behind Harry, looking at his most intimate place, probably _fixated_ on it and Harry let him, wanted him, _needed_ him to look his fill and, hopefully, to touch him.  
   
Harry nearly sobbed aloud and a cry tore from his throat when he felt Malfoy’s tongue, that glorious, incredible, amazing tongue, licking him again. He didn’t know why Malfoy felt the need to taste him there, but he could only give silent thanks, because he couldn’t get enough. The shackles were a hindrance, he found, when he tried to push back into Malfoy’s face and could only get so far.  
   
Malfoy didn’t seem to notice. His tongue lapped at Harry’s hole, licking and stroking and pushing as though it were the finest thing he had ever tasted. Between the unholy burning caused by Malfoy’s hands on his flaming hot arse cheeks and the unspeakable feel of Malfoy’s mouth, Harry could do nothing more than writhe and gasp.  
   
Malfoy’s lips wrapped around Harry’s hole and he _sucked_ hard even as he freed one hand from Harry’s arse to cup his balls. Harry jerked so violently into the mattress that he was afraid he might come again already, because it was _oh oh oh_! A guttural cry tore from his throat.  
   
Malfoy’s lips pulled away. “Don’t come,” he warned.  
   
Harry whimpered, straining against his bonds, needing that gorgeous, filthy mouth back on task and willing to do anything to make it so. To his relief, it returned, and Malfoy’s tongue shoved mercilessly past the tight ring. Harry cried out again as his body tried to pull Malfoy’s tongue inside. _Fucking, fucking, oh Merlin_ , Malfoy was fucking him with his tongue, in and out, and around, and alternating with sucking.  
   
Harry wanted to hump the mattress, anything to ease the pressure on his cock, because he needed to come, but Malfoy’s tight grip kept him from moving much. He could only rock his testicles and grind them against Malfoy’s palm with every delicious stroke.  
   
Malfoy jerked away again and Harry nearly sobbed as he heard a quickly cast spell and then his legs were free. Another spell removed the panties—Harry had barely noticed them constricting his thighs until they were gone.  
   
“Up, Potter,” Malfoy said thickly. “Up on your knees.”  
   
Harry scrambled to obey, finding it harder than expected with his arms still shackled widely apart. He dropped his wand and shifted forward until he could grip the wood of the headboard for balance.  
   
Before he could settle himself, he felt the head of Malfoy’s cock against his arsehole. “Wider,” Malfoy ordered.  
   
Harry quickly spread his legs farther and felt almost faint when the head of Malfoy’s prick teased his opening. He held his breath as Malfoy pushed inside with maddening slowness, filling him bit by bit, until Malfoy’s balls brushed against his own and the tingling, stinging heat of his pained arse was cradled by Malfoy’s pelvis.  
   
“So good,” Malfoy whispered. “Salazar, that’s so good. Fuck yourself on me, Potter.”  
   
Harry raised his head in surprise.  
   
“Do it,” Malfoy snapped.  
   
Harry swallowed and moved forward, withdrawing from Malfoy’s cock nearly as slowly as it had gone in. When the hard length was nearly out, Harry pushed back, more quickly. He repeated the motion experimentally, until he got the hang of it. Malfoy did not move at all, and was barely touching him except for a light grip on his arse—he did nothing to guide Harry, who started to move faster.  
   
Harry shifted his grip on the headboard to get more leverage and then began to slam himself backward onto Malfoy’s prick over and over, fucking himself, trying to find that spot of brilliance— _there_! A shudder went through him at the tingling surge and he shoved back and forth again and again, dragging Malfoy’s cock over something inside. His own prick bobbed in the air and Harry nearly sobbed with the need to touch it, but Malfoy wasn’t moving and the shackles prevented him from touching himself.  
   
A whimpering cry escaped his throat when Malfoy’s hands tightened and he thrust forward suddenly, yanking Harry hips to meet his downstroke and bury himself even deeper. Another thrust, and another, and Harry thought he might be able to come, oh Merlin he was close, _so close_ and this was brilliance—  
   
Malfoy slammed into him twice more and then shouted wordlessly. Harry felt him shudder and thrust again and their movements became easier, slicker, as Malfoy came inside of him and _oh fuck_ , if the very thought of it wasn’t hotter than hell. Malfoy’s hand wrapped around his cock and the mere touch had Harry’s balls tightening up.  
   
“Come for me,” Malfoy whispered against his ear and Harry did—he probably would have without permission, but it was better, so much better, to do as Malfoy asked, because Malfoy was brilliant. He was a fucking _god_ and Harry kept fucking himself against Malfoy’s prick and hand as he spent himself on the bed, because he didn’t want to stop, he didn’t want it to ever end.  
   
His come spattered the bed, what little there was of it, since he had climaxed down Malfoy’s throat earlier, and electric shudders seemed to go on and on. Malfoy sagged over his back, feeling warm and solid against him. Despite the glorious feeling, Harry’s arms and legs trembled with exertion. He sprawled forward in a limp heap, Malfoy atop him, with his hot breath panting against the back of Harry’s neck.  
   
“Potter,” Malfoy breathed and one hand reached up to touch Harry’s face. The word sounded like a prayer. To Harry’s surprise, he felt Malfoy press a kiss against his neck, and he heard a spell. The shackles parted, freeing him. He pulled his arms back gratefully and started to massage his wrists, but Malfoy brushed his hands away and gently touched the reddened flesh.  
   
His lips nuzzled Harry’s hair as he spoke. “I’ll heal these before you go. And I’ll be sure to put some padding inside next time. Fur, maybe. Or silk cloth.”  
   
Harry’s brow wrinkled. Malfoy almost seemed to be talking to himself. Harry wanted to protest. _Next time_? Surely Malfoy knew there couldn’t be a next time. It was insane. They had to stop this now, before it got out of hand. Truth be told, it already felt out of hand, with Malfoy still buried deep inside of him while his thumbs stroked the bruised flesh of Harry’s wrists.  
   
“Don’t go, yet,” Malfoy said, even though Harry hadn’t moved, _couldn’t_ move with Malfoy still sprawled over him. “Just rest for a bit.”  
   
Harry shut his eyes. _Just for a bit_ , he thought and tried not to think about how good Malfoy felt wrapped around him like a blanket. Even the burning feel of his arse—inside and out—was brilliant. _Just for a bit_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [In the Potions corridor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004510) by [Iwao](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwao/pseuds/Iwao)




End file.
